


you better believe i like it rough (we can get a little crazy)

by gothgirlclub



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Blowjobs, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Choking, Gay, Klance smut, M/M, NSFW, Power Kink, Sex, Smut, Theyre totally gay, Top Keith (Voltron), dirty - Freeform, idk what universe this is but ik they arent paladins in this, keith likes being in control, klance, lance calls keith sir, rough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 01:49:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16108262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothgirlclub/pseuds/gothgirlclub
Summary: Keith and Lance drink too much, and sexual tension with loose morals just doesn’t mix well, or does it?





	you better believe i like it rough (we can get a little crazy)

“Bite me, Kogane.” Lance spat at the raven haired man as he raises his drink to his lips. He missed his smirk.

“Don’t tempt me, McClain.” Keith chuckled, enjoying how he saw his skin go red around his cheeks.

-

Four shots and a couple of beers in, Keith didn't know what he was doing as he felt his hands run over Lance’s body. Pretty, soft, and lean - he felt like sin and for all of Keith’s life he's been dancing with the devil and living in things he should repent before it's too late. Was it such a big surprise that he was partial to a blond twink considering his last boyfriend looked something straight out of a college frat party? Was it really out of character for such a hot body to turn him on when he was only twenty-three and often thought about people in naughty lights without knowing it? Could he be blamed for being sex driven when people paint him as a sex symbol and always talk about wanting to be with him?

He couldn't be bothered with morals when Lance's tongue tasted like candy and his body melted like ice cream beneath his hot hands. Not when those rose lips were opened pretty and wide, messy with saliva and alcohol as the older man kissed his delicate neck. So soft. So sweet. He wanted to get even more drunk off of his lips.

Keith ran his fingers through his short hair and then tugged, emitting a loud moan from the brunet's mouth. Both of their shirts were off and the surface of his three seater couch stuck to their hot bodies as they rolled around on the expensive black leather, but Keith didn't care as he pushed his knee against Lance's achingly hard crotch. The boy’s confidence was slipping away as he was carried with a wave of need at the pressure.

"Sir," Lance breathed as he arched his back to push their bodies together and Keith took a deep breath at the title. "- please."

"Why did you say?" He asked as his hand shook slightly. He could feel the blood rush to his dick as he heard his desperate voice echo in his head.

"I'm sorry, is that not your thing? It kind of slipped out." The submissive murmured and Keith’s teeth grazed his skin.

"Call me that." He demanded instantly. "Say it again."

Lance's fingers curled into his boyfriend’s back muscles and the raven haired man chuckled breathlessly as stings of pleasure ran up his dirty veins. "Sir." The brunet whispered and Keith slipped his hand beneath the undone buttons of his trousers. "Fuck me."

"Get down, Lance," Keith instructed as he palmed him through his boxers, feeling as his body responded to all of his heavy touches and his lingering dark gaze. He untangled his fingers from his sweaty locks and then held his jaw as his thumb tugged his bottom lip down. "- your mouth is too dirty not to wash out."

The pupils in his blue eyes were blown wide, darkened with lust and glossed with need for whatever Keith held in store for him. His knees hit the soft, black rug and Keith let go of him to undo his own jeans. Maybe he should have taken care of Lance first, to let him know there was the slight remains of a gentleman buried within his rotten bones, but his own need and drunk arrogance didn't let him. He was first. He was always first.

And maybe Keith was twisted for enjoying how pretty Lance looked when he cried, his stomach turning as his hollowed cheeks, fire roasted bronze skin slick with salt water, and high cheekbones were painted into his mind forever. A mess of sweat and greased hair stuck to his glistening forehead and his hands, God those large hands sat pretty and complacent laced together behind his back at the bottom of his spine like he knew what to do. Before him was a man, who's still really just a boy in the eyes of the world, eager to please him and eager to be used by him in such an unholy way. Was there shame in allowing him to become such a mess? Should he feel bad when Lance's the one who provoked it? He had no reason not to enjoy the buffet he so graciously laid out before him, it's quite rude to refuse even if it was dirtier than a junkie's veins.

Absolutely obscene. Absolutely filthy. And for a moment, just a single moment, absolutely his. No more and no less.

-

It was really just another night for them. Drunk. Spent. Clinging to one another for dear life.

A long, dark night filled with activities the light of day was never to see or hear of. For that's when the eyes of millions of souls were to be laid on him, like he was above all others with a single beam shining on a small stage with camera eyes pointed at him. The days were reserved for everyone else who held on to wholesome, loving thoughts of him while the nights were laid perfect for him and his almost lover to roll around in the filth of temptation and manipulation inside of a California King sized bed. To feel like angels beneath the white moonlight beams despite this onyx wings and lustful eyes. Heaven would never let them in.

He slid his hands along his copper skin, soft and smooth with torn edges of skin and sharp corners of bones from his thin stature. A perfect little pin-up doll. He placed his left thumb between the grand canyons of his exposed ribs while his long fingers laid splayed across his back and he squeezed down just to hear that broken little gasp rip it's way through his stretched throat when the pain dug its way into his clouded system. The gleam in the boy's eyes was almost unbearable, red where white should be and black where brown should be, so he ran his fingers through his hair and tugged his head back so the brunet could look to the sky. He was desperate to forget that the only time they loved each other was when they weren't in the right state of mind. With that drink in their veins and their visions clouded with gluttonous pleasure.

"Sir-Sir, touch me."

He rolled his hips, feeling the almost rough razor edged bumps of a stubble scratch his skin as the headboard slammed against the bedroom walls with force. Their bodies became one underneath a lack of a true God, two temples of worship left to be determined to whomever can make the other come undone first. 

His partner's body arched inwards to his own and he could feel the California valley in his body and the heat of the stardust in his skin as their salt water sweat stuck them together like glue. He couldn't bare it. It was entirely too much while not being enough at the same time. 

He held him tighter before taking the fingers entangled in his rich, carmel locks and sliding it around his attenuated neck. Something stirred deep in him as he curled his fist around his throat, his quickened pulse throbbing against his skin as he squeezed and pinned his body to the mattress bellow. He whined, struggling with his bandana tied hands before he rocked his own hips so desperately. Oh so desperate with need for the older man.

He leaned over him, resting his weight on his knees and on the boy's oh so precious porcelain skin and fragile bones. Blocking the moonlight from his facial features was the smartest idea he's had because in the shadows he couldn't see his begging eyes or his swollen lips. He couldn't see his saliva covered mouth or his ruby red cheeks that were hot with pain, pleasure, and embarrassment from being so... torn apart. He couldn't observe just how utterly broken in and compliant he's made this mouthy boy just for him.

His hair fell in his face and their heavy pants mixed in the hot air around them as the bed creaked and cried beneath the weight of their intertwined bodies. He was quiet, but his partner stayed vocal and ear deafening, ensuring that the neighboring rooms would know his name if they didn’t know it by now.

"Keith!"

His breathless gasp caused him to let go of his throat, but he begged for him to keep his tight grip. To choke him. To block his air passage and leave him blue in the face. He loved the spacey, floating feeling ad he dipped between consciousness and blackness.

"Please, sir, please."

Keith didn't listen to him immediately, he only let his hand rest around his neck before he dug his fingernails into his skin and dragged them down his chest. His partner shivered beneath the heat and the older man blew cold air on them to heighten the experience. But he did comply when he felt he was ready, and the jolt of pleasure from the feeling of being choked made his partner unravel beneath him and make an even bigger mess of themselves than they’ve already made.

That sams night, he untied his partner and kissed his dainty, bruised wrists a million times to help emotionally soothe the rough burns made from his bandanas mixed with a constant struggle. He ran a warm bath for him as well, scrubbing the sweat from his skin and shampooing his hair for him so he didn't have to lift a single finger. He massaged the man with fresh aloe vera gel to help the scratches left on his body where his nails accidentally broke through in patchy spots and bruises that painted his skin the colors of the galaxies beyond their world. He bowed at his feet and bent to his every whim, promising a good rest of the night in bed and a breakfast fit for a king when the inevitable morning struck and he had to be shared with millions of others yet again.

They laid in bed cuddled up to one another, a rare occurrence for Keith indeed since the nights were where he felt the most vulnerable. Without the eyes of millions on him, he felt small and alone, but the man beside him calmed those nerves as he wrapped an arm around his waist and laid his head on his chest. 

"Love you, Lance." He mumbled through a yawn as his muscles relaxed.

“I love you too, Keith.” He hummed, already drifting off into unconsciousness.


End file.
